"I plan to leverage my influence within the Association—though as I understand, the FBI and the congressional committee investigating Lamb recently uncovered some interesting evidence at Lamb's headquarters. So tell me, does this action actually matter?" Leo asked.
At the New York gala, this was the talk of the town among businessmen. Supposedly, the new documents directly implicated several state officials, including Virginia Governor Harry and Richmond Mayor Eamon.
Leo wasn't warning Harry—Harry already knew as much as Leo did. He was fishing: How will governor Harry extricate himself?
"Once rumors are out, it's hardly our concern. American officials often exit office for all sorts of reasons—but not usually for corruption. Will the President really come tonight?" Harry asked casually.
Leo shrugged—true, America was the land of the free. Tonight's purpose was twofold: gain the support of Leo's grassroots political bloc, and attend the inaugural gathering of the American Real Estate Association.
That evening, Lynchburg Hotel glowed brightly.
The grand plaza before the fountain brimmed with the elite. After a flawless meeting, Austin Heller—President of Tishman—had been elected the association's inaugural president.
Its Secretary-General was Cedric Callum, CEO of Pennsylvania's veteran Johnson Holdings.
Leo was given the honorary title of Chairman—something he'd never have without President Truman's intercession.
After a spectacular fireworks display, the ballroom opened for mingling. Leo played the perfect host, working the room to gauge his peers' attitudes. Most were either indifferent or wary—an encouraging sign.
Just as Leo was preparing to dig deeper into networking, he noticed President Truman waving him over from the lounge. Though slightly secluded, when President Truman spoke, everyone listened.
Pennsylvania's Cedric leaned in to Austin:
"Truman seems to value this young man. Because of shared origins?"
Austin snorted:
"Background? It doesn't matter much.
The Cotton family and Truman aren't close in party politics. Rumor has it Truman's polling is weak. Cotton scouted for a presidential candidate behind his back—that's a direct jab at Truman. But the Cottons hold enormous sway in the faith community—Truman can't retaliate openly.
Then this kid comes along and bursts Lamb's bubble—one of their key revenue sources. With Lamb's collapse, the Cottons lost a limb. They've been quiet in politics.
Truman's pleased—and this is how he shows it.
That's Truman—ever unpredictable."
Leo joined them and sat between Truman and Governor Harry. Truman got straight to the point:
"Leo, Governor Harry and I differ on something. A few months ago, thanks to Harry and Eamon's endorsements, many of my friends and classmates invested in Lamb. When it collapsed, I was flooded with phone calls—and couldn't sleep. Governor Harry believes whoever inherits Lamb's business should absorb the fallout."
Truman paused for a sip of water. Leo looked at Harry—was Truman asking him to repay Harry's obligations? Harry avoided Leo's gaze.
Truman, seemingly reading minds, continued:
"I disagree. America is a business society—winners take all. If a company fails, let the loser pay."
Harry defended:
"You're right, but the loser—Lamb—has already been bought by other firms."
Leo realized why Truman wanted him here—and that only he could speak the words the president needed to hear.
He rose smoothly:
"Mr. President, there's more than just Lamb involved. Many Virginians lost money thanks to the assurances you and Harry gave. Don't pretend no connection. Hoover is here—he can testify that this isn't speculation. You and Lamb were one and the same in Virginia."
Harry glared. Truman turned to him:
"Governor, what do you think?"
Harry glanced at the walls, knowing Truman's strategy: Truman wanted to force a choice—only one of the two (Harry or Eamon) could remain. The other would fall.
Leo sensed the trap, but for the sake of old ties and fairness, he spoke for Eamon:
"The Tiernan family have been Richmond's pillars since colonial times. Their resources make them the ones best equipped to manage the payouts."
Truman nodded, satisfied. Harry's shoulders slumped. He'd lost the internal fight.
Truman then instructed:
"Leo—handle the money side.
Governor Harry and Director Hoover handle Tiernan and Eamon politically.
With public uproar over corruption, one high-ranking official resigning will satisfy the media."
Harry balked but had no choice. After leaving, Truman patted Leo approvingly—he was pleased. Leo had once again gained maximum advantage: undermining the Cotton family and securing political power across the Eastern Seaboard. Truman handed Leo a personal invitation to the White House's Christmas Eve gala.
Later, guests began to depart. VIPs were led to private rooms. As evening turned festive, a car screeched into Lynchburg Hotel's valet lane. Eamon and his secretary, Zoe, rushed in—hope on their faces that vanished at the empty foyer, where only a housekeeper and Leo debated event improvements.
"Mr. President?" Eamon asked anxiously.
Leo replied coldly:
"You're too late, Eamon. The gala's over. He's already left."
Eamon's face drained of color. He snapped:
"I'm a stakeholder too. Why wasn't I told about this?"
Leo chuckled:
"As a major shareholder and manager, I handle dividends. All events are important. But I can't keep track of who is 'Tiernan-important.'"
Eamon, realizing the foolishness of his position, pleaded:
"I've heard you have strong ties with Truman and Hoover. I need your help. The Tiernans will remember your friendship—and it could help your career."
But Leo, glancing at Eamon and Zoe, smiled mockingly:
"I'm not someone who even asks for leverage from others. I don't deserve the Tiernans' 'help.' Go back, Mr. Eamon. Lynchburg Hotel will pay your dividend at year-end—whether you get it is uncertain."
Meanwhile on Long Island, at the Cotton estate:
Though late, the opulent dining room still brimmed with core family members, tense and fearful:
Phineas, their second son, sneered:
"These corruption cases impact Maine, Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Virginia. FBI has already taken some legislators in. My agent says the outlook is grim. If Robert cracks—how many more will fall? And if we do nothing, how many more friends lose faith in the Cottons?"
Oswald, furious, replied:
"Robert sacrificed for the family. A lot of what you men consume comes from Lamb money. Even if you set aside emotion—have you considered how those loyal to our cause will feel if Robert dies?"
All eyes then turned to the family patriarch, Harold Cotton, playing with his grandson.
When he asked,
"Alfie, what do you do with a diseased branch?"
The boy answered with childish clarity:
"Mr. Tea Teacher said you can't ignore a sick branch just because it blooms pretty."
Harold nodded stiffly and ended the discussion.
Elsewhere, inside an FBI-secure safe house:
Former Lamb CEO Robert was a key witness. But after days of relentless interrogations, his mind was unraveling. His nights required sedatives.
Lying in bed, drips pushing sedative fluids into his veins, he played a grim vanity game—how long until the drip finished?
But tonight, the nurse's masked face was cold and unemotional.
As Robert tried to cry out, he felt sudden intense pain—and then nothing.
His death sent Truman into furious outrage at Hoover. Despite internal evidence and witnesses, political realities meant Truman desperately needed a convicted major official to carry out this purge.
Richmond Courtroom, Day 3 of Eamon's bribery trial:
Eamon's slump was replaced by firm determination. Yesterday he'd learned of Robert's death—and the consequence was clear: without Robert, no proof of bribery.
Who could convict him now? He was still the Mayor of Richmond.
Fuelled by anger at Leo, he plotted revenge.
"Call the witness!" the judge commanded.
Eamon froze. Robert was dead. He looked at Zoe in disbelief.
Then he saw…Bernard, their longtime family butler, standing at the witness stand.
Ignoring Eamon's death stare, Bernard recalled their private conversation:
"People call you Richmond's guardian. But I believe you're only papering over problems. You were about to retire, but didn't you want to protect this city one last time? You can end the true destabilizer—the Tiernans—and let justice and fairness finally reign in Richmond."
Bernard's words were dismissed as nonsense—until he opened his prepared statement, recounting Eamon's misdeeds since his term began.
The courtroom erupted. The judge had to call for order three times.
Eamon slumped—he knew he was finished. The Tiernans would lose their power.
The judge's verdict vindicated Bernard's testimony, and Richmond breathed a collective sigh of relief.
After the trial, Leo met Chief Conagher outside, hugging him warmly near a gleaming new Bentley:
"Friend, the people of Richmond thank you. This is their gift."
He opened the car's trunk: inside sat Conagher's wife, clutching a suitcase.
"As a Canadian, you always said Virginia winters weren't cold enough. So here—drive this beast, return home, and enjoy retirement."
Conagher looked into the trunk—at least $600,000 in cash, versus his meager $100,000 pension.
That same day, Leo arrived at the century-old former Lamb HQ on Richmond's Main Street—now his Valentino Company HQ. It was his second time here, but as owner this time.
Fifteen small- to mid-sized real estate bosses sat before him, expressions desolate. They'd abandoned the association under intimidation, then rejoined for the highway project—only to lose out entirely to Valentino's monopoly.
They'd arrived today to formally agree to Leo's acquisition terms.
At the same time, in ten major Virginia cities—Virginia Beach, Norfolk, Arlington, etc.—Valentino Real Estate signs went up on many downtown properties.
Each ground-floor Valentino building opened an unassuming retail office.
Meanwhile, back in Lynchburg Hotel, Lucas had organized Leo's fifty-plus newspapers into a Virginia Press Alliance.
Days later, Leo's new office: Hans and Daniel stood before a massive Virginia map, replanting pins in the map to mark territories. Their assistant held fresh pins.
Daniel said:
"Boss, the Virginia map's getting full. Since your office is bigger now, how about we add large-city maps too?"
Leo nodded:
"Good idea."
Daniel hesitated, then said:
"Christmas is coming. We won. Shouldn't we bring the guys and their families home?"
Leo thought for a moment:
"No. If they want reunion, let them go. But this time, bring Hans's and William's family with them. I know, Daniel—it's a tough ask. But this is non-negotiable."
Daniel—still far from Leo's wealth level—couldn't fully feel the pressure. But Leo's fortune was nearing $30 million, yet none of the major political or party machines had extended him any olive branch.
On the East Coast, upward mobility was nearly impossible.
A heavy snowfall signaled the start of Christmas.
After delivering Daniel, William, Hans, and Lucas plus their families, Leo prepared for his own holiday.
Noodles, his old driver, refused this turn—after all, he was single.
Fortunately, he had one dependable kid onboard: Aldo Nomié, orphaned but loyal.
Leo admired the glittering blue sapphire Aldo handed him with mild surprise:
"Good pick, Aldo."
"Naturally, Boss. You trust a Frenchman's taste. To meet your aesthetic and rare needs, I queued three weeks at Tiffany's. Only five of these exist in America—yours cost $300,000. Just… who's it for?"
Aldo asked.
Leo smiled:
"Not for you to know. Let's go."
"Where to?"
"Philadelphia."